


No Confidence

by DeathByFluteConcerto



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Dangerous Misuse of PPE, EXTREMELY self-indulgent, F/M, Graduate School, Inaccurate Scientific Procedure, Self-Indulgent, Technically it's a grad school AU but I'm tagging it as University
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-10 14:38:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6989347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathByFluteConcerto/pseuds/DeathByFluteConcerto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marinette Dupain-Cheng is suffering through a PhD in the prestigious Agreste lab when she meets the unallowably beautiful Adrien. Everyone suffers, everyone learns, Alya is the voice of reason.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Coccinellidae

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first fic! Write what you know, I guess.

Marinette fought the growing urge to slam her head down on the table and give up. 

Unpublishable. Un-freaking-publishable. 

She would bet her whole stipend that Nathalie hadn’t even discussed the manuscript with Dr. Agreste. Probably hadn’t even shown it to him. Weeks of testing and hours of lab work and a whole month of learning what statistics even were, and one goddamn assistant professor on a power trip had stopped her in her tracks. 

“This is sloppy, Marinette. I would expect better from you. Redo it.” Nathalie had said tersely, barely glancing up from her desk as she handed the papers back. It hadn’t even been two hours after Marinette had asked her to review them. 

_You’re not my advisor!_ Marinette had wanted to scream. The memory made her grind her teeth in frustration, and she sank lower in her seat. _You’re not my advisor and you can’t make me do anything_. But Dr. Agreste isn’t here and now everything goes through Natalie and after weeks of work she had nothing and now…

Abruptly, Marinette lost the fight. She flopped down limply on the table. Prone on the desk, she expended as little energy as possible to flop an arm over to her ipod and turn up the volume. She let Jagged Stone scream out her frustration to the abandoned lab. 

_And now here I am at eleven night, alone in a lab with too much to do and I have to spend another three weeks researching and rewriting the whole protocol from the beginning, and that’s another three weeks not doing experiments which is another three weeks of not writing, which is another three weeks of not getting published and another three weeks not finishing my dissertation and not graduating and my grant is going to run out and I’m going to have to leave grad school and…_ Her thoughts began to run faster and faster, whirling against her skull as she beat her forehead against the table. This was definitely the worst thing that had ever happened to her. Ever. In her whole life. 

Marinette managed to wallow through two whole songs before she heard Alya’s voice in her mind. 

“Come on, girl.” 

Marinette sighed heavily and chose to ignore it. She wasn’t sure when, or why, Alya had become her mental voice of reason. She’d watched the woman shotgun a beer out of a kelp stalk last week. And be proud of it. Marinette shuddered at the memory. Pabst blue ribbon with a side of ocean was not what she had been looking for when the marine students invited the department out to the coast for a beach barbecue. 

Alya’s mental urgings (and the distracting memory of the mildly disappointing and frankly alarming barbecue) did get her to stop beating herself up, at least literally. Removing her abused forehead from the table, Marinette set her chin down on her arms, disconsolately surveying her lab coat. 

She had been so excited when she first got accepted into Dr. Agreste’s lab. The toll of four frantic years of undergrad had seemed worth it then: here she was, her hard work had gotten her into the most prestigious entomology lab in the country, under a professor whose research was cited by every invertebrate zoology course in the world. A week into her first year in the program, Marinette had spent hours carefully embroidering little ladybugs and pink flowers into the sleeves and pockets of her lab coat. She had been so ready to make her research her whole life. 

It didn’t seem worth it now. 

She sighed again and picked at one of the ladybugs. The thread was coming loose, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. 

_I’m just going to have to give up. It all ends here. I’ll be forced out of grad school and I’ll have to make money by embroidering children’s names on backpacks and I’ll live off nothing but rice and I’ll die old and alone and no one will remember me and I’ll never discover anything because clearly I am not cut out for research. What am I even doing here. It’s a future of pricked fingers and hunger for me, yep._

“Okay, that’s it. C’mon, you know you’ve got it. Stop improvising these futures for yourself, girl. You’re better than this.” It was Alya’s voice again. 

A large part of Marinette wanted to continue to ignore that voice. But in the end her tiny, mental version of Alya was correct. Marinette hadn’t gotten to grad school by lying around on hard desktops, wallowing, and crying about stress. She had gotten to grad school by buckling down, believing in herself, working so hard she wanted to die, and crying about stress. 

As if pulled into her mind by the righteous hand of her best friend, a memory came unbidden into her mind. It was the second semester of her junior year. She had tripped and fallen onto a bike path while carrying her final project for her entomology class; a carefully labeled collection of one hundred bugs from twelve orders of insects, collected over eight weeks. Her legendary clumsiness had nearly destroyed her: the collection had been completely crushed. A week before it was due. It had been worth half her grade. Marinette spent four hours that night face down on the couch, refusing to move. But in the end, she had managed (by spending literally eight hours a day in the field every day and night for the whole week) to reassemble the collection. 

This couldn’t be any worse than that. Alright, so maybe it could, but still. She hadn’t given up then, even though she desperately wanted to for those miserable four hours. 

She couldn't give up now. 

Clenching her fists in sudden determination, she sat up fully straight and cast her eyes towards the blank white ceiling. So help her God, Marinette was going to _show_ that self-important stick of an assistant professor. 

With barely a pause to jack her music up the last few notches to full volume, Marinette braced her legs against the wall and pushed her chair across the room at high speed, catching against the edge of the lab bench in front of the thermal cyclers. 

She grabbed her pipetman and prepared to spend the next three hours pipetting with _accuracy_ and motherfucking _precision_. She was going to prove herself. She was _pumped_. 

Her music pounded through the room, and as she reached out for her pipette tips Marinette could feel the delicate plastic of the box shaking under the weight of the sound. She thanked whatever ancient, magical being might be looking out for her that Natalie hadn’t noticed, or hadn’t cared, when her speakers had taken up a permanent spot on a lab shelf. 

And that she wasn’t studying auditory cues in ladybugs. Marinette cast a glance toward the tank in the corner where her little charges were buzzing about disconsolately. They probably didn’t like the noise. 

Right now she didn’t care. She was alone in lab in the middle of the night, and that meant angry rock ‘n roll music as loud as she could play it. This lab was her holding and she was the _LADY_ —

A hand on her shoulder interrupted her thoughts. 

Marinette screamed. 

She spun her chair around, hands flying up to flail around her face. As she spun, the sleeve of her delicately embroidered lab coat caught on her box of pipette tips, and suddenly they were flying off the table and all over the floor. The hand on her shoulder pulled back in alarm as Marinette’s chair spun too far and crashed into the table behind her, smacking her arm right into the lab bench. Ignoring the pain, she whirled her seat back around and was left face to face with…

A very cute butt. Truly, this butt was impressively shapely considering it was clad in a loose lab coat. There was also the back of a blonde head and a pair of denim-clad legs and Marinette suddenly realized that the butt was that shapely because in the air and the mysterious blond stranger was scrabbling on the floor for her pipette tips.

Marinette gasped as her brain caught up with the rest of her. 

“OHMYGODI’MSOSORRY” 

She slid out of her chair onto the floor and started grabbing her fallen work alongside him. 

“Oh gosh please no let me get this—I’m so sorry I didn’t think anyone else was here and I just—oh no…”

A gentle laugh stopped her monologue. The mysterious stranger kneeled and turned to face her. 

_Oh no_ , went Marinette’s thoughts. 

His face was as cute as his butt. His eyes were so green. Like jade, or like the key lime pies her father used to make on warm spring days, or the leaves of the sycamore trees that lined the avenue Marinette rode her bike down every morning, when the air was cold and crisp and clean and the world was still quiet. 

_Oh no._

“I really should be apologizing to you.” He said. His hair was golden, like pure sunlight distilled into fibers. But not just any sunlight, this was sunlight an hour before sunset on a lazy Sunday, streaming through a window to strike a wall above a warm bed. Marinette was sure if she reached out to touch it, it would be like gentle silk under her fingers. Her fingers twitched briefly as though to find out for themselves before she caught herself and held her arm back. 

_Oh no oh no._

“I tried to get your attention…I guess you couldn’t hear me over the music, I shouldn’t have grabbed your arm like that. I really didn’t mean to startle you.” 

A hand went to scratch the back of his head. He was blushing ever so slightly, the color lending his face a warmth that made Marinette think absurdly of home. 

_Oh no oh no nonononono_

He smiled sheepishly and Marinette’s whole face blushed pink. Her mouth gaped. 

Sweet Christ. This guy was illegally cute. 

Realizing after a moment of staring that the silence was getting awkward, Marinette shook herself mentally. 

“I-It’s fine. It’s fine! I, uh, I did-didn’t think anyone else was here and—oh God the music, I-I can t-turn it down…” She rocked back on her heels, unbalancing herself and nearly topping over before her hand caught the edge of the lab bench.

He laughed again and Marinette squeaked in embarrassment. 

“No I, uh, I actually came to see where the music was coming from. I love Jagged Stone.”

“Y-yeah?”

“Yeah!” He grinned broadly and his whole face lit up. He gestured broadly as he began to speak, enthusiasm spreading through his whole body. “I saw him live a couple years ago and I was hooked. He’s just so genuine, you know? It’s authentic rock ‘n roll.” 

“Y-yeah.” Marinette couldn’t help but smile when he grinned like that. “He-he actually feels angry. When he sings. Like it’s not just about anger? I-I guess.” She could not for the life of her figure out why she couldn’t get a sentence out. 

“Exactly!” The stranger was still grinning. Marinette was still sure the hue of her face would match one of her bugs. 

At this point they had both settled back on their heels, kneeling across from each other on the cold lab floor, the pipette tips gathered back into their box on the ground between them. 

“I’m Adrien.” He extended his hand. Hesitantly, Marinette extended hers as well. He grasped it tightly. His handshake was strong, but his hand felt delicate in hers. 

“I-I’m Mari. Marinette.” She was absolutely tongue-tied. 

He stood up, his hand still in hers, and pulled her to her feet with her surprising strength. Bending down, he nimbly snatched the box of pipette tips off the floor and handed them back to her with an elaborate bow and a cheeky grin. Her face blushed even darker, if that was possible. 

His eyes flicked around the room as he straightened; finally on his feet for long enough to get a good look at her lab. They settled briefly on the bug tanks in the back corner, and Marinette detected a trace of hardness in the set of his lips, though it vanished as quick as it came and was rapidly replaced by an inexplicable gleam of amusement in his eye. 

“Sorry again for scaring you. Anyway, _lady_ , I should probably stop _bugging you_.” With that he winked and, shot her a double finger gun before stifling a giggle and backing rapidly out of the lab. 

Marinette was frozen. 

_What?_

_No. No. This could not be allowed._

_Puns. Of all things. A greek god walks out of the art department museum, comes over here, and makes puns at me._

_No._

_…oh no._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know this isn't really "accurate" because the most fandom accurate grad school AU would have Marinette in fashion, Adrien in physics, Alya as a journalism student etc etc. But this isn't a grad school AU: this is a BIOLOGY grad student AU. And I put a ton of work into figuring out what everyone is studying and had tons of fun with it, so don't fight me on this. 
> 
> This is an American graduate school because I know nothing about higher education in France. The working title for this was "UC Paris AU", so make of that what you will. 
> 
> Yes, using kelp as beer bongs is really a thing that happens among marine students. And marine professors (I've seen my 82 year old professor do it and it's...something). It is not something I would recommend doing yourself unless you like your cheap beer with a side of gooiness and salt, but it is fun to watch. 
> 
> If you like the fic/AU, I'd love it if you left a comment! I'd also love to talk about ML and science so if anyone wants to say hi, my tumblr username is the same as my AO3 author name. I'm easier to reach there.


	2. Felidae

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien might have a problem with entomologists, and we meet the supporting cast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is drinking in this chapter, if that bothers anyone. It's all lighthearted, but I know not everyone is comfortable with it.

Adrien sat quietly on the couch. His brow was furrowed. He was watching Nino carefully. At this point he was…mildly concerned. 

_Yeah, let’s go with that. Mildly concerned._

Nino was pacing unsteadily in front of the TV, arms gesticulating wildly as he talked. Part of Adrien’s concern was for the drink in Nino’s hand, as with every gesture it seemed to be spiking ever closer to an inevitable splash on the carpeted floor of their living room. 

The other part of Adrien’s concern was for what Nino was telling him. 

“Bro….just. Bro. The crabs. These motherfucking bubbler crabs, right? The crabs. They make bubbles. You dig?” Nino’s voice was slow but persistently urgent. 

“…I thought they dug.” came Adrien’s response. This had been going on for several minutes. Nino was a few drinks deeper than Adrien, but Adrien had had enough that he could feel a haze around his mind and a gentle buzzing in his stomach. It made it hard to keep track of Nino’s… whatever Nino was on about. 

“They dig. They dig the sand. The motherfucking sand. They make the sand bubbles yeah? On the beaches. And the beaches, they have waves, right? So the crabs must know the wave…sound.” Nino flopped his hand around in the air as if to illustrate a point that Adrien did not pick up on. 

“…Yeah, sure.” Adrien responded. He was not sure. 

“Yeah, the sound…waves. So they must know the sound. The ocean sound. _The ocean sound makes them dig the bubbles_.” Nino was incredibly focused, his pointed finger emphasizing every word of his point. 

“Okay….” Adrien’s mind was getting fuzzier by the minute and at this point he wasn’t sure if it was the drinks or just Nino in general having the effect. 

“So get this, get this. We play…for the crabs. For the crabs. We play them some _dance music_.”

“We’re playing dance music. For crabs.” Adrien was trying very hard not to let his amusement completely supersede his mild concern. He was fairly certain Nino needed the mild concern more than the amusement right now. 

“YES! Yes. We go to the club. We get…the hot mixes. The hottest mixes. And then we play them for these motherfucking bubbler crabs. And the sound waves yeah? Not ocean waves. _So the crabs will change their bubbles_.” Nino held up his free hand beside his head and mimed an explosion. “ _Mind blown_.” 

“…Nino. Let me get this straight. You want to go to the South China Sea and play EDM for bubbler crabs. As your dissertation.” Adrien said, leaning forward on the couch as though being closer to his friend would bring him closer to understanding (it didn’t). 

“Yes, bro! It’ll change the face of science… _forever_.” Nino waved his arm above his head as he said this, as though to gesture to the entirety of existence. Unfortunately, he gestured with his drink hand, and his drink finally met the carpet with all the explosive chemistry fate had predicted. 

Nino stared dumbfounded at the now wet carpet. Adrien leapt (well, wobbled) up and grabbed a roll of paper towels out of the kitchen. As he blotted up the drink, he addressed Nino again. 

“Need I remind you dude, that you work in a herpetology lab? You study turtles. There’s no way in _shell_ ,” Adrien ignored Nino’s groan and continued, “that Fu is going to be cool with you using his NSF money to jet off to the other side of the world and prove a nonsense point about bubbler crabs.” 

Nino nodded sagely as he grabbed a paper towel and squatted across from Adrien to clumsily dab at the carpet. Adrien chuckled at his friend’s well-intentioned attempts.

“Then, dude, bro, you’ve gotta do it. You’ve gotta change science forever, man.” Nino insisted. 

Adrien was unsure why Nino’s drunkenness was always accompanied by an excessive number of “bro” epithets. If drinking lowered your inhibitions, then it seemed that Nino’s inhibitions only kept him being as friendly as he felt. Which was actually pretty endearing. 

Adrien went to punch Nino in the shoulder affectionately, but then realized that combining unsteady Nino with punches would probably lead to a pile of indignant Nino on the floor. He settled for resting his hand on Nino’s shoulder instead. 

“Look. First of all, I am in a mammal behavior lab. Caline isn’t about to let me change my topic even if I wanted too. Second of all, why would I _want to do this_?” Adrien asked, eyeing Nino gently as his friend struggled not to fall face first into the stain he was dabbing at. 

“Dude,” Nino responded, sitting back. “My buddy. My guy. My pal. My man.” Nino was pointing for emphasis again, every word accompanied by a jabbing finger in the air. “To _impress the ladies_.”

That gave Adrien pause. 

“I think we can agree that neither of us know what impresses the ladies,” Adrien responded, “but I also think we can agree that it is not that.” He grabbed the now soaking wad of paper towels off the floor and headed back to the kitchen. The carpet was as clean as it was going to get. 

Nino followed him and started to reach for the alcohol on the counter before Adrien grabbed him by the shoulders, turned him around, and shoved him back into the living room. Accepting his sentence with drunken grace, Nino flopped his lanky body onto the couch Adrien had abandoned. 

“Alright then, stud.” Nino scoffed as Adrien shoved Nino’s feet off the cushions and flopped onto the opposite end of the couch, “What are your bright ideas for impressing the ladies?” 

_Apparently not scaring the shit out of them in the middle of the night with your musical tastes._ The thought took a flying leap into Adrien’s head, executed a perfect double back handspring and stuck the landing at the forefront of his mind. Adrien sighed deeply. 

“Wow, bro. Bro. What kind of a look is that?” Nino stared at Adrien suspiciously, or at least as suspiciously as one could when drunk. “Is there something in the lady department, man? Something you’re not telling me?”

“It’s no one, Nino. I didn’t even say anything.” Adrien knew before the conversation began that try as he might, he could not shut it down. He was still trying. 

“You didn’t have to, no need to, my man. But I mean, when was the last time you were interested in a girl?” Nino’s head lolled back as he tried to remember. “You haven’t even crushed on anyone since…” Nino’s brow furrowed. He had a look of intensity on his face that struggled against the glassiness of his eyes and flush of his cheeks. Adrien couldn’t help but snort. 

“Don’t bother trying to remember. I haven’t had a crush on anyone since undergrad.” Adrien sighed. It was true, too. He was seldom interested in people, and even when he was, it had seldom worked out for him in the past. 

“See, this is news, big news bro.” Nino’s brows flew up in excitement. “So tell me, tell me about this girl…is she cute?” 

“…yeah.” Adrien gave up on trying to ignore the thought. She was cute. The image of the ladybug girl popped into his head and he smiled dreamily. 

Nino, with a struggle and a grin, sat up straight on the couch. 

“Nice! Nice nice nice. So like…what’s the problem man. What is the issue.” He was gesticulating again. Adrien sank deeper into the couch. 

“…she’s an entomologist.” His response was monotone. 

“So? Bruh, bruh. I know your pops isn’t your like...favorite person. But this is a _cute girl_. The first _cute girl_ I have seen you notice in like. Ever. Ever, my man.” Nino wove his arms around for emphasis, grinning like a maniac at his best friend. “You can’t let your, like, fucking daddy issues into every part of your life. Your dad has no part in this, yeah? Live, like fucking, live a little. Bro.” 

Adrien scowled and sighed. 

“She works in my dad’s lab.” 

Nino paused. And then lost it. 

Deep belly laughs shook his whole body. He held a hand up, as if to stop Adrien from saying anything else, and the other hand grabbed his stomach. He was struggling to breathe. Adrien scowled as Nino rolled off the couch and lay on the floor, tears of laughter streaming out of his eyes. 

_Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up._

It took several minutes for Nino to pull himself together. Adrien was strictly not amused for all of them. Finally, wiping his eyes and propping himself up on his elbows, Nino choked out a response. 

“Shit man, that fucking sucks.” 

\---------------

As a rule, Caline Bustier did not care much for propriety. Organization and lab hierarchy were not her top priorities. Adrien wasn’t sure they even made the list of priorities. 

When he had transferred into her lab last year, she had told him verbatim that “The quality of your work is what makes you a true scientist, not where or when you do it. As long as your methods are good and everything is on time, I don’t care.” In person, Adrien had found her to be supportive, cheerful, and easygoing. All things that his father wasn’t. 

All things that Adrien was grateful for when he stumbled into the lab at eleven the next morning. 

Nino had spent another hour laughing about “irony” and Adrien’s “entomologist curse” and Adrien had decided the best way to ignore the entire situation was to have another drink. Or three. It was a decision he was regretting now, as the hum of the labs’ fluorescent lights beat down on his aching head. 

He bypassed the tall, cluttered black lab benches in the center of the room in favor of the desk in the corner, which he had claimed as his own for the past few weeks. The desk was decorated with little animal figures that people had gifted to Caline over the years. The whole lab was filled with mementos of studies long past and barely organized stacks of old equipment, and it lent the room an air of hominess. The university hadn’t gotten around to giving him an actual office yet, but he didn’t mind He liked being in the warm hustle and bustle of the main lab. 

Most of the time, anyway. When his brain wasn’t trying to boycott consciousness and leak out his ears. Adrien flopped down in front of the desk, thinking of why exactly his body was trying so valiantly to give up. 

It wasn’t that Adrien hated all entomologists. 

_Alright_ , he thought. _So maybe having your superstar professor of a father breathing cold expectations of academic perfection down your neck for twenty years gave you a bit of a grudge. So maybe watching your father immerse himself so deeply in moths that he didn’t notice your mother fading away made you resent the insects a little. So maybe being forced into a PhD program at Oxford on a moth project, and staring at the stupid things every day for a year before you finally lose it enough to grow a backbone made you never want to get near an insect again._

_I don’t have a problem with entomologists._

Adrien sighed and shrugged his lab coat on. At this point he wore it for warmth more than anything. After months at a field station in India, the colder climate of home bothered him more than it should have. He wasn’t working with any chemicals, and he knew Caline couldn’t care less if he wore one, but he maintained that it was about the principle of the thing. He also liked that the coat made him look serious, like he was a professional that people should listen to. 

He fired up his computer and smiled at the background. It was a picture of a grinning leopard that he had taken himself while he was working in India. He had also added the text, in white letters with a black outline: “I have a great cattitude.” It made him laugh every time. It made Nino groan every time. 

_Hah, forget Nino. I am fucking hilarious._

_…though maybe the background does diminish the “people taking me seriously” bit._

He pulled up his stats program and prepared to settle in for a mind-numbing day. If his late night at the lab earlier that week had taught him anything, other than that he was so bad with girls that they couldn’t talk to him properly, it was that he had managed to come away from college with a prestigious degree and absolutely zero understanding of statistics. 

Just then, the lab door slammed open. Adrien glanced over, unsurprised. Alya Césaire was never one for subtle entrances. 

“Jesus, Adrien. You look like hell warmed over.” 

_I feel like hell warmed over_ , he thought. Outwardly, he just shrugged. 

“What’s up, Alya?” 

“Caline’s gonna be down in a few minutes, she needs to talk to us. I was just making sure you were here.” Alya responded, glancing down at her phone as she did so, presumably to text their professor a confirmation of Adrien’s presence. 

“Does it have to be right now?” He had hoped to feel more human before he had to face anyone important today. 

“Yep, it does. What’s up with you, anyway? You okay?” Alya asked. She sounded concerned, but her tone made Adrien suspect that her question was driven by curiosity more than worry. 

“Ah, it’s nothing,” Adrien responded. He grabbed his lab notebook in preparation, hoping that whatever his mushy brain couldn’t catch from the meeting would remain on paper. 

“It can’t be nothing. Nothing is ever nothing.” This was punctuated by a shake of her head as she grabbed her own computer and notebooks, taking over one of the lab benches. “Hm, let me take a guess…Girl trouble in paradise?” She grinned mischievously and wiggled her eyebrows. 

“I don’t know about paradise but…yeah, something like that.” Adrien sighed. 

“Up top.” Alya held her hand up for a high five. Adrien cocked his head. 

“Does this warrant a high-five? Really?” 

“As far as I’m concerned, anything interesting about anyone’s personal life deserves a high five.” Alya responded matter-of-factly. Adrien shrugged, rolled over and smacked her hand. “So,” she continued, “what happened? Did she kick you out? The D not good enough for this girl?” 

Adrien blushed and sputtered, and Alya laughed. 

“You’re such a prude.” She chuckled “But really, did that happen? Because if it did I definitely want to know.” 

“No, it didn’t,” he huffed. “I haven’t even asked her out. We talked like once. For _fox_ sake, Alya.” That earned a groan, but Alya was not about to be deterred. 

“Once? Really? If you’re this beat up about her already, you definitely should take her out. Or at least talk to her again. ” Alya’s eyebrow quirked in curiosity. “What’s her name?” 

Just then, the door opened and Dr. Bustier breezed into the room with a stack of papers in her arms. Sparing not a thought for the conversation of her students, she handed half the stack to Alya and crossed the room to hand the other half to Adrien. 

“Okay you two, this is the data from the field stations in Washington, and those papers I mentioned from the lab in Mumbai. Alya, I’m going to need you to…” 

As Dr. Bustier began to talk Alya through the next few steps of her project, Adrien turned back to his desk to thumb through the papers, silently grateful that the prying into his personal life had been interrupted. 

_Though maybe Alya is right_ , he mused, settling into a report on panther sightings in the Indian countryside. 

_I suppose talking to her again wouldn’t do any harm. I could apologize properly for scaring the crap out of her the other night._

_I just have to brave my father’s lab. And possibly see him. And talk to him._

_…on second thought, maybe it could do a lot of harm._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Adrien's time in India has nothing to do with canon and everything to do with the fact that I based his research topic off this paper: http://journals.cambridge.org/action/displayAbstract?fromPage=online&aid=10083333&fileId=S0030605314000106. Long story short, it's about panthers predating on domestic dogs in human-dominated areas of western India. His time researching there is also one of several reasons why Marinette has no clue who he is, despite being in the same department and cohort of graduate students. 
> 
> (I gave every character a research topic based off a real, recent paper. I'm a nerd. It comes with the territory.) 
> 
> Nino's drunken speech pattern is based off a friend of mine, but is definitely exaggerated for comedic effect. Writing drunk people is hard. 
> 
> Adrien's character is harder for me to write than Marinette (partly because I think Marinette and I are a lot alike), but this was fun to do and I hope you enjoyed!


	3. Arboreal Adaptation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette falls, and Alya is running a double blind.

The second time Marinette spoke to Adrien, she had fallen head over heels. 

A far reach with her bug net, a tumble, a brief scream, and now she hung upside down from an oak tree, swearing quietly and trying not to cry. Her left ankle was tangled painfully in the lowest branch, and her head was in the dirt. A woodchip was digging into her face. She was not having a good morning. 

It had started out fine. The day had dawned sunny and warm, pleasant even in the earliest hours as she rode her bike in from town. The usually misty morning air had been clear and bright, and Marinette had been excited. The fall was not usually the best time to catch ladybugs, but the warm weather had seemed like a good omen, as though it would draw them out. With that in mind, she had stopped briefly in the lab for a net and a jar and headed out to find some bugs, a spring in her step and a smile on her face. If she caught enough she could start the trials tonight and get the data worked up by the end of the week. Even Nathalie would be impressed by that. 

That enthusiasm had lasted long enough for her to search all the lowest branches to no avail. It had lasted long enough for her to clamber into the slightly higher branches of the oak tree, valiantly searching for the little red bugs. It had lasted right up until a misstep had sent her left foot into thin air. Then the enthusiasm had disappeared very quickly. 

_At least I held onto my bug net this time_ , she grumbled internally. Small comfort against a potential concussion. 

_At least it probably can’t get any worse._

The thought had barely occurred to her when a cry came from across the green. 

“Holy shit! Are you okay?” A voice yelled. Marinette frowned. She couldn’t place the voice, but something about it made her stomach twinge. Not unpleasantly, but definitely unexpectedly. A pair of orange converse came running into her field of view. 

_Where did those come from? Where could you even buy those? Who the fuck owns orange shoes_ she thought blearily. Perhaps the concussion wasn’t so much a potentiality anymore. Then suddenly the shoes were joined by a pair of green eyes and a head of blond hair. 

Marinette could place the voice now. 

She felt her face heat up as she stared motionlessly at the graceful figure squatting beside her. His brow was furrowed in concern. 

_Oh nonono_ , went Marinette’s thoughts. _Of all the times and places._

_I was wrong. Clearly this morning can get much worse._

“Marinette, right? Are you okay? Can you move?” Adrien’s brow was furrowed with concern, and his voice sharp and rushed. He reached out as though to touch her, but his hands hesitated, hovering nervously over her prone form. 

_Jesus_ , her mind rambled, _is every one of his expressions carved out of marble by an angel? Unfair._ She was still prone on the ground, staring at him. The silence was getting awkward, and she realized that the look on his face was rapidly leaving concern and approaching panic. 

“Marinette? MARINETTE? Can you talk?” He was alarmed and increasingly loud. Marinette’s flush of attraction darkened into one of embarrassment. 

_Why does this always happen to me?_

“Uh—YES! I CAN MOVE!” Marinette yelled, as her embarrassment spiked and pushed the words out of her with the grace and reassurance of a tsunami. She cringed immediately, but Adrien looked relieved. 

That quieted her internal panic long enough to push herself up on her elbows. His hands were still hovering, and she pushed a fleeting _‘oh yes please touch me wherever you’d like’_ out of her mind. Instead, tried to focus on her vulnerable position, and how to get out of it. An experimental shift of her ankle proved to be a bad idea, as a spike of red-hot pain shot up her leg. She hissed in response, and Adrien’s hands hovered even more urgently, practically vibrating over her. 

There was nothing for it. She couldn’t move her foot herself. She was just going to have to die of shame. 

_At least mom will plan a lovely funeral. I’ll look down from heaven and watch Alya tell people that the floral arrangements were off the chain._

“I-I, uh, I mean, do you think you could—my foot?” She finally managed to choke out, staring up at him from the ground. He paused, looking trepidatious. But he nodded and rose, moving over to where her foot was stuck. Her foot couldn’t have been more than a couple of feet off the ground, but Marinette still felt absurdly provocative as he approached her upraised leg. 

_Back on the ground and legs in the air,_ her mind titters. _Making my mother so proud._ That concussion seemed less and less theoretical. Her funeral seemed more and more imminent. 

_I hope they don’t play that song about standing on mountains and sailing stormy seas_ , she thought wildly. _I hate that song._

His hands hovered around her foot for a moment. His expression had changed, his brow was still furrowed but he no longer appeared concerned. Instead a single eyebrow was downturned in something halfway between confusion and determination. He pulled back and then reached for her foot again. 

_So much for touching me wherever he’d like, he clearly can’t touch me at all_ , she moaned internally. _Here lies Marinette, unfit to be touched by the gods. Perfect for the tombstone._

Finally he grasped her foot, and lifting ever so gently, he pulled her foot from the crook of the tree. Bark scraped against her ankle and she fought back another hiss, fists balling up against the dirt. Electricity spiked up her leg along with the red-hot pain, but the only way out was through. 

And finally, she was free. Gently, she pulled her leg in and rolled herself into a sitting position, finally getting the opportunity to wipe that god-awful woodchip off her face. Her head hurt, her back hurt, her face hurt, her foot hurt. 

_All a day in the life of Marinette the hopeless._

Adrien still stood nervously by the oak tree. _Well yeah_ , Marinette chided herself, _he’s probably terrified that I’ll walk over to him, fall on top of him, and promptly murder us both. Somehow._

“Are you okay?” He asked again, his voice so gentle and caring that Marinette could cry. _Such kindness. Such sweetness. Who could imagine._

“Ah, y-yeah. I mean, I uh I hit my-my head, but I think I’ll be okay. In the end.” 

“Good.” The smile he offered her was nervous, but she still melted internally. “What on earth are you doing out here anyway? Why were you climbing a tree?”

“I-I. Uh. Collecting. Collecting ladybugs. For feeding trials.” Marinette replied, waving her net weakly. It was somehow still in her hand, unbroken. Her luck always seemed to work in the least useful ways. 

“Collecting ladybugs? Out here?” 

She supposed it was an odd spot to be. The oak tree was in the middle of campus, but isolated from even the closest buildings. Seeing a lone figure climbing it was likely an unexpected sight for a strolling biology student. 

The tree itself was enormous, easily twenty feet tall, and ancient. She had been high enough in it before to see generations of letters carved in the side, each commemorating a couple that had sat beneath its branches. She loved running her fingers over the old carvings, each quiet memory making the tree more endearing.

Most endearing of all though, the tree was less than a fifteen-minute walk from the biology buildings and was always crawling with ladybugs. Useful, when one was trying to study the diets of wild ladybugs. 

_Almost always crawling with ladybugs_ she thought to herself. _Little bastards._

“Ye-yeah, I-I mean—this tree is usually my spepret scot—I mean secret spot—for collecting, I-I mean not so secret since everyone can see it, I mean obviously but there’s balways ugs—alwaysbugs—but today they were really high—I mean really way up there and—I guess I just was trying too hard?” she stuttered. Adrien’s expression was bemused, to say the least. 

_Why can’t I just mean what I say?!_ She screamed internally. _Say what I mean? Whatever!_

“You collect them yourself?” He asked, brow furrowed again. “That seems kind of…dangerous? Aren’t there collectors who can get stuff for you? Or at least undergraduates who have signed waivers?” His voice is concerned again, and Marinette could feel her face breaking into an awkward, gleeful smile. 

“Y-yeah I guess there are. But we needed a lot feally rast—I-I mean really fast—and they’re easy to find…” her voice petered out. This was hopeless. “…th-thanks for hopping to stelp. Stopping to help. I-I feel okay. Now. Thanks.” Her voice was still weak, but Adrien smiled again, and at last the smile didn’t seem so nervous. After a moment it had moved from being not nervous into being broad and gleeful. 

“Look, getting these bugs seems _mothfully_ hard.” Adrien was fully grinning now. Marinette made a noise halfway between a groan and a maniacal laugh. In retrospect, it sounded like a hamster being stepped on. “Tell me next time you’re going out? I think you need a _spotter_.” He was unstoppable. “And I promise, my bug-catching skills are so ill you can call me a _sick-cada_.” 

Marinette needed her ears checked. 

Surely the most beautiful man she had ever seen had not just utilized several awful puns to ask to spend time with her. She stared, slack jawed, for several moments. After what seemed like an eternity, he shrugged and sighed. He reached out a hand, and she took it hesitantly. As he pulled her to her feet, he was still smiling, but she could see that it didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“I’ll be seeing you around, Marinette.” With that farewell, he turned and walked back across the green. Marinette was still staring. It took a few minutes before she came back to herself. When she finally did, she groaned in frustration. 

_My god. He thinks I’m a crazy person._

_I have never been nor will ever be again this embarrassed._

\-----------------------

The incident was still on her mind several hours later. She was walking back from lunch in the library café with Alya, half listening to her best friend rant about research and quietly sipping an almost cold cup of coffee as she mused on how the incident from that morning could have gone slightly better. 

_Enthusiastic agreement about collecting would have been good. Even just agreeing to maybe go together some time would have been a start._

_We could have gone and caught a ton of bugs and then gone for coffee and then we could have gone out and gotten married and moved into a four bedroom house and had three children named Emma and Hugo and Louis and a dog and a cat and a hamster…_

Alya was still talking, completely unfazed by Marinette’s’ internal episode. 

“I swear to God, Mari, if I had known that grad school would mean an endless existence of visiting fox latrines, I would not have been so eager to sign on.” Alya had her phone in her hand, gesturing eagerly with it as she spoke. “It never ends! And not only does Caline have this supper aggressive summer sampling plan, she’s even trying to get funding for me to spend part of the spring at the field station in Washington! I’d be gone for two months! You’d have to find a subleaser! Can you believe it, Mari? It just. Never. Ends!” Alya turned to her best friend for affirmation, and found Marinette staring dreamily into the distance. 

This was not the response Alya was looking for. 

“Hello? Earth to Marinette!” Alya waved her hand in front of Marinette’s face. “Yoohoo!” With a start, Marinette refocused. 

“Sorry, Alya. I’m just a little distracted today.” Marinette responded sheepishly, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. She had hoped the coffee would help a little with focus, but it did not seem to be doing the job. 

“Yeah-huh. I noticed. What’s on your mind, girl?” Alya grinned. “You got something to tell me?” 

The pair turned towards the biology buildings, strolling through the campus promenade past groups of tabling undergrads. They dodged starry-eyed, pamphlet-thrusting students with ease, barely distracted by the rush. Enough years on a campus and you end up with all the street smarts you might ever need in life. Or at least all you need to avoid well-intentioned people with clipboards. Marinette grimaced and shrugged. 

“Not really. It’s just…boy things.” 

“Oh, sheesh. You too?” Alya groaned with a roll of the eyes. 

“Me too?”

“Yeah, one of the guys in my lab is having serious girl problems. He’s been spacing out all week. The lab’s been really quiet, and more than a little awkward.” Alya rolled her eyes again. It didn’t take more than a moment for her enthusiasm to return with a vengeance. “But anyway. Boy things! Girl, you know you always have to tell me about boy things. Who? Did Nath finally get up the courage to ask you out?” 

“What? Oh, no. No. I haven’t even gotten a note from him in weeks. I think he lost the nerve.” Marinette mused. 

“You know, you could save him the trouble and ask him out yourself.” Alya pointed out. She took a sip of her own coffee. Alya always bought the largest size the café sold and she always drank it black. Marinette could never understand how she finished it. Marinette’s own coffee was tiny, and crammed with as much cream and sugar as deemed socially acceptable (and maybe a little bit more). 

“Why? He’s sweet, but I mean...” Marinette shrugged again, gesturing broadly as if to indicate all the things Nathanael was and was not. “Why are you so eager for me to see a guy anyway?” 

“I don’t know. Maybe because having a boy around might solve some of your boy things. Maybe because having a relationship might distract you from that awful lab you’ve sold your soul to. Maybe because your best friend wants to see you happy.” Each statement was accompanied by an emphatic sweep of the phone. 

“I don’t think asking Nathanael out would really accomplish any of those things.” Marinette said. Her tone was dismissive, but she grinned as she continued. “You’re single too, don’t you have those problems? What about that cute guy from the turtle lab? I haven’t asked Nathanael, and you haven’t asked him. We’re even.” The two had reached the courtyard of the run down Ramier building. They passed by the aviary that stood outside, and Marinette could hear the gentle cooing of pigeons. 

“I haven’t been able to talk to cute turtle boy since the department social last spring, since someone spilled coffee on me before I could get his number.“ Alya scolded. “And turtle boy doesn’t leave cute, slightly creepy, very obvious secret admirer notes in my mailbox. Stop trying to change the subject! If it isn’t Nath, who is it?” She asked doggedly as they continued towards the newly refurbished main building. 

Where the old buildings, like the Ramier building and the aviary, were worn wooden bungalows covered with vines, the new building was all glass and metal. Marinette found it lacked the almost adventurous charm of the older buildings. The older buildings had more spirit, as though they had appeared on campus from a field site in a warmer and more exciting place. They felt more like they belonged with the old-school biology that had Marinette had been drawn to in her undergraduate years. But the glass and metal façade held her lab, so it was her home now. 

Marinette turned towards the stairs with a sigh, muddling over Alya’s questions. There was no getting out of this, so she might as well give in now. 

“A new guy, I think. I haven’t seen him around before, but I ran into him twice in the last couple weeks.” 

“Is he cute?” Alya liked to get straight to the point. Marinette thought for a moment of Adrien’s clover green eyes and sunlight hair. She couldn’t keep the wistful smile off her face as his grin popped into her mind, the slightly lopsided genuine one he made when he told a pun. 

“He is the most beautiful person I have ever seen. In my entire life.” Marinette sighed dreamily. Alya whistled. 

“Damn girl, he must be something special to get that look on your face.” They turned down the brightly lit hall of the third floor, slowing as they reached Marinette’s lab. “Are you gonna ask him out?” 

Marinette pulled the door open with a groan. 

“I can’t, Alya. I’ve made a fool of myself both times I’ve talked to him! He thinks I’m a crazy person.” Marinette dropped her now-empty coffee into the trash as she entered the lab. Alya followed her in. Alya’s lab was a few doors down the hall, but Marinette knew she was not about to drop this subject and just go back to her own lab. Marinette held the door without question. 

“C’mon girl, it can’t be that bad. It would take a lot of foolishness for a boy to lose sight of that pretty face.” Alya teased, elbowing her friend in the side. 

“Trust me, Alya, it really can. The legendary Marinette clumsiness struck both times. In truly epic fashion.” Marinette’s voice was morose as she pulled on her lab coat. Alya stood by the door and watched her best friend closely, still nursing her enormous coffee. 

“What did you do?” 

“Well the first time I knocked about a hundred pipette tips onto the floor and he ended up scrambling around on his hands and knees under the table to pick them up for me,” Marinette began with a sigh before Alya cut in. 

“On his knees before the first date, nice!” Alya held her hand up for a high-five. 

“Alya! No!” Marinette was mortified and firmly ignored Alya’s upraised hand, instead violently snapping on a pair of gloves. “And then just today I fell out of a tree while I was out collecting bugs to test the new protocol on and he had to come to my rescue.”

“That sounds romantic.” Alya’s eyebrows wiggled mischievously. 

“It wasn’t! I don’t know what it is, Alya. I could barely thank him for getting me out of the tree. I get all tongue-tied!” Marinette moaned. 

“You got it that bad, huh?” Alya said, taking a sip of her coffee. “You should definitely ask him out. What’s this guy’s name, anyway?” 

Just then, the lab door opened. In the doorway stood Dr. Nathalie Sancoer, a human being who (according to Marinette) had been forged in the fires of hell out of galvanized nails, propriety, and pure spite. Every piece of her body was stiff, and she towered in the doorway with all the gentle charm of a grievously misplaced wrought iron fence. She cast a critical eye over the entire lab, the criticism sharpening as her gaze landed on each of the girls. Marinette subconsciously corrected her posture. Alya hid her coffee behind herself and tried not to look nervous. 

“Alya Césaire, correct?” Nathalie’s tone was crisp and emotionless. 

“Uh-ah. Yes.” 

“Please be aware that strictly no food is allowed in this lab. Take it and leave.” 

With an apologetic glance at Marinette, Alya gripped her coffee firmly and practically ran out the door. As it slammed behind her, Nathalie paced over to Marinette, heels clicking ominously against the linoleum. Marinette suppressed a shudder at the sound. As Nathalie reached the lab bench, she paused to pull something out of a folder she held in her arms. The silence in the lab was thick and cold, as though she had carried a glacier into the room on her back. 

“The revisions on the intraguild predation paper are back.” Nathalie said, handing over a thick packet. Marinette took it hesitantly. “It was rejected.” 

“Oh.” Marinette had nothing else to say. She had always thought that sending the paper to Nature had been a long shot, but Nathalie and Gabriel had insisted they begin with the most prestigious journals. “Well…I’ll take a look at these. Maybe we should try the American Zoological Society next?” Marinette said hopefully, turning her chair to face Nathalie. Not all journals were equal, it was true, but there was nothing wrong with a publication in a respected, if not revered, journal. 

The icy look on Nathalie’s face stopped Marinette’s hope in its tracks. 

“Marinette, I need you to understand. You are not on track to graduate within the next three years. If your publications continue to be rejected and you cannot get your work to the standards of this lab, your fellowship will run out before you can complete your degree.” Nathalie said, eyes locked onto Marinette’s with terrifyingly intense precision. 

“I…I know, Nathalie.” Marinette wasn’t sure where this was going, but she didn’t like it. “But Dr. Agreste has NSF funding available for a year, and I can pick up more TA hours…” A shake of Nathalie’s head cut Marinette off. She didn’t like where this was going at all. 

“Dr. Agreste is not prepared to resubmit the grants that would allow the NSF to fund you for an extra year if the quality of your work continues at this level. We would need to…encourage you to look into other programs.” Nathalie said, voice as impassive as ever. It wasn’t her future she was signing away. Marinette was speechless. 

“Do the revisions, and I want to see that along with your data for the second set of new feeding trials by the end of the week.” With that Nathalie turned and left the room. The glacier she had brought with her remained, now resting heavily on Marinette’s head. 

Marinette wanted desperately to cry. She had staked so much on this program. She thought she had been getting her hopes and dreams. Apparently every piece of her wasn’t enough for the Agreste lab. It wasn’t enough for her degree. 

For the second time that week, she let her forehead hit the desk with a bang. There was no Jagged Stone this time to scream out her frustration for her, and there was only so much the hard surface could do to muffle her cry of frustration. 

_There was no blond boy to distract her either._ The thought was brief, and not comforting. The fact that she could be distracted by that even now, when her whole life seemed about to come crashing down, was evidence to her that maybe Nathalie was right. 

_I’m not good enough for this lab, for this lab coat, for this position._ The thoughts flooded her mind and she couldn’t push them back. _I can’t do this because my best is not good enough for this. This is not me._

Marinette almost couldn’t believe she was getting this through Nathalie. When she had signed onto the lab, Dr. Agreste had seemed stern, but focused on good work and enthusiastic to have an equally passionate student. After she had started working, every positive aspect of that persona had been stripped away, leaving nothing but cold expectation and grim disappointment. Two months ago he had left for a lecture tour in Europe, which had turned into assisting with research at Oxford. Marinette’s last five emails to him, each more desperate than the last, had gone ignored and unanswered. 

_I wish…I wish I had some way of reaching him. Some way, besides going through Nathalie, that I knew he would hear me. That he would listen. If only I had a way of getting to him. Of getting at him._ The thought was surprisingly vindictive. 

_If only the stupid tie-clad icicle had something he cared about._

_If only._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I don’t know how likely it is that Marinette’s advisor would be asking her to leave the program. I know some people who have transferred (or attempted to transfer) from one program to another because their advisor was a bad fit (or a straight dick), but I’ve never seen a professor initiate it. It was convenient from a plot standpoint, so I’m doing it anyway. 
> 
> I don’t necessarily think Nathalie is a villain, or even a bad person. Her canon characterization is kind of sparse, and she could easily go either way as an ally or opponent. But her characterization as a villain is useful here. Also, I don’t think she’s that bad even here. Marinette strikes me as liable to shoot the messenger, and these chapters are supposed to reflect her views. 
> 
> Alya’s research topic is based on this paper: http://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0003347207003697 It’s about foxes using latrines to communicate with neighbors by establishing long-term chemical signals. You can probably guess from Nino and Alya’s research topics what my favorite fan theories are. 
> 
> For those who aren’t in STEM or higher education: TA means teaching assistant, they’re usually grad students who help a professor teach a class or run labs and discussion sections for a class. Nature is the most prestigious journal in the US, getting a paper in Nature is a huge deal. NSF is the National Science Foundation; they provide almost all the money for scientific research in the US, including funding for labs and graduate student stipends. They helped fund Bill Nye! 
> 
> Thanks for reading!!


	4. Allopatry

Adrien Agreste was lying facedown on the once-white couch, moaning. He had been doing this for exactly twenty-one minutes and forty-seven seconds. Nino had set up a timer on his phone the moment Adrien had flopped onto the couch. He hadn't taken three steps into the house before Nino let him know that The Look on Adrien’s face was notification enough that this episode of melodrama was going to be one for the record books. Adrien’s opulent drama made the cheap apartment around him somehow shabbier, like an opera performed in an elementary-school cafeteria makes the cafeteria smell even more of fake cheese, or perhaps how a Shakespeare soliloquy recited from the back of a moving garbage truck might make the squeak of the brakes even louder. 

Nino was now watching his best friend from the kitchen table, occasionally typing something but mostly running a commentary. 

_Sick-cada._ The mean little voice in Adrien’s head chanted at him. _Sick-cada, sick-cada, SICK-CADA. I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU SAID THAT. I can’t believe I SAID THAT._

“Oh, and look at this ladies and gentlemen! Another pillow punch! That makes three times in the past four minutes, what an astounding hat trick. Each of them with perfect form! Yes, this fit of melodrama is turning out to be one heck of a spectacle.” Nino was getting some good practice on his announcer voice. 

_At least someone is having fun._

Adrien rolled his head over slightly so he could see best friend, who was eyeing him smugly over the top of his laptop. He looked entirely too happy at the situation. 

_Oh my God Nino can you not see the pain I am in._

Adrien sighed deeply. 

“Oh, and a deep sigh! That is one record breaking—“

“Is this really necessary?” Adrien cut him off before he could get back into the groove. 

“What? I have to keep entertained somehow. Running stats on turtle ear bones is possibly the most boring concept to have been birthed by the universe, and you’re taking up all of the good TV seats with your emotions.” Nino retorted, emphatically smacking the enter key. “What brought this on anyway? I’m guessing it’s something to do with that girl you mentioned the other day.” 

“Well, a) that’s none of your business, but b) how could you tell?” Adrien rolled fully onto his side to scrutinize Nino. Nino grinned. Adrien could do without the knowing eyes behind the grin. 

“Because the only other time you’ve gotten this worked up over anything—and mind you this is saying a lot because you’re by far the most melodramatic person I know dude—“ 

“Am not. “

“Are too—the only other time you’ve gotten this worked up was when Chloé forced you to hang out with her and you got a fever and thought you might have a crush on her.” Nino finished. “You only get this way about girls, dude. And you have only mentioned one girl.” 

Adrien opened his mouth as if to retort, but then thought for a moment. His face drooped. He had actually forgotten, or forced himself to forget, entirely about the Chloé incident. It had been during their undergrad, and it had been one hell of an emotionally harrowing week. 

“Actually, yeah, that’s all true.” Adrien admitted reluctantly. 

“What can I say, I’m on observant guy. I haven’t been your best friend since fucking undergrad to not understand how you work with girls. So what’s the issue?” 

_Only EVERYTHING ABOUT ME._

Adrien groaned and flopped back on his face. He appeared to be doing his best to drown himself in fabric and down. The thick cushions muffled his moaned response. 

“Dude.” 

Adrien rolled his head over, eyes glazed and eyebrows raised, looking past Nino with a thousand yard stare. He looked as though he had suffered through the kind of day that made Edgar Allen Poe famous. 

He really was the most melodramatic person Nino knew. 

“…puns. Puns are the issue.” 

“Puns?”

“PUNS!” Adrien yelled suddenly, and sat bolt upright on the couch. “PUNS ARE MY PROBLEM!” His arms were flailing. “This poor girl fell out of a TREE and I went over to help her and all I could do was make PUNS about her RESEARCH and now she is never. Going. To. Talk. To. Me. AGAIN.” 

“Ok, ok. First of all, dude, let me be honest. You are way too pretty for any girl to even consider never talking to you again—“ that earned a snort “—and second of all, how do you know she’s never going to talk to you again? Did she say so?” 

_She didn’t need to_ , Adrien sobbed internally. _I could see it in her soul._

“No, but—“ 

“No buts!” Nino insisted, holding up a silencing finger. “For now, let’s assume that girls are normal people, who will tell if things bother them because they are sane and normal humans like us.” 

_What a fucking assumption. Yeah, and I’m also going to just assume that all the animals in India are geographically normally distributed, just because…wait, I actually did that._

_…I may need to rethink the methodology of that paper before I ask Caline to look it over._

“Oh…kay…” 

“Now, if you had fallen out of a tree, and this girl had come over to help you, is there anything she could have said that would have made you never want to talk to her again?” Nino asked. He still looked knowing, and that expression was really starting to get on Adrien’s nerves. 

“…I mean she could have pointed and laughed and—“ 

“Ok, again. Calm down. If she said anything you would have reasonably said, would any of that have made you never want to talk to her again?” 

“…no.” Adrien conceded, raising his eyebrows and falling back on the couch with his hand to his forehead.

“Ok, then lets assume you two are equal. She wants to talk to you again. Everything is well.” With that, Nino nodded and looked back to his laptop. “Now I have stats to relearn. Again. So if you wouldn’t mind taking the melodrama on the road or something. Go get an ice cream. Comfort yourself. Stop entertaining me.” 

_I would rather die than leave the house while feeling an emotion_ was Adrien’s internal response. Externally, he just sighed again. 

“I would rather be relearning stats than going through this, man. Math doesn’t fuck with your heart.” Adrien said, sitting upright again and trying to appear as though he had sent his emotions down the road, as requested. 

“Okay, three things.” Nino replied. “First, have you ever done math? It does too fuck with your heart. Second of all, no one would rather do statistics than literally anything else in the entire universe, so I know you’re being melodramatic. I know for a fact you would rather face down an actual live tiger than do statistics—” 

“Well yeah,” Adrien said. “Cats are fun.” 

“THIRDLY, before I was so rudely interrupted” Nino held up an admonishing finger. “If you want to do stats, then let’s do some stats. First step, what is your alpha level? What is your confidence that this girl could be significantly into you?” 

“ZERO.” Adrien all but yelled, flopping down again. “My confidence is zero. I have no confidence.” 

“Okay, bro. The melodrama needs to take a hike. Stop flopping down and bolting up twice a minute, I can’t keep track of where you are. And c’mon, it has to be at least five percent. We’re not biologists for nothing. Think of the things she does and says, and think of what you would do. There’s got to be at least a five percent chance that she likes you and will talk to you again. Think of the significance!” Nino furrowed his brow. “I think I’m fucking up the terminology here, hence why I am relearning statistics. Again. But you get the idea.” 

“Bro, I appreciate the sentiment, but every time I talk to her, something goes very drastically wrong.” Adrien drawled from his repose. “It’s a statistical anomaly.” 

“I suspect you’re exaggerating” Nino replied flatly, pausing his work and glancing up from his keyboard again. Adrien rolled his eyes, slow and heavy, as though they carried the weight of a thousand broken hearts. “But if that’s the case, it sounds like what you need” Nino’s eyes suddenly sparked “…is a controlled environment.” 

\--

Marinette was sitting quietly at the kitchen table. She was wrapped in a pink fuzzy blanket with white polka dots, tucked carefully around her shoulders. Alya had brought it the minute Marinette had walked in the door. Apparently Marinette’s face was enough to let Alya know that something was Deeply Up. Marinette knew Alya was taking steps to calm her, and while that would normally be helpful, in this case it was just depressingly unnecessary. Where usually stress brought her frenetic energy, letting her mind jump ahead of her at the speed of light, the apparent hopelessness of her current predicament seemed to encase her entire being, not unlike one of her bugs trapped in amber. 

They couldn't take her out of the program, they couldn’t pull her funding. They just…they couldn’t. 

Even her thoughts were unusually quiet. 

_What would I do with myself if not this?_

Alya was sitting across from her, brow furrowed. Marinette had explained the encounter with Nathalie piece by piece over the course of the past hour. Really she should say that Alya had dragged it out of her, piece by piece over the course of the past hour. Alya’s face was drawn, her brow deeply furrowed. She looked really worried, and Marinette could understand why. Marinette didn’t feel at all like herself, and she was sure Alya could tell. As she had ground out her story, Alya had made each of them a cup of tea. Hers sat in front of her, now cold and still full. Alya had her empty mug gripped close to her chest. 

“They can’t do that, can they?” Alya finally asked. Her voice was quiet and gentle, but her tone was desperate. Marinette could feel the emotion tensed just below Alya’s skin, seeping out of Alya’s every cell as though to compensate for the emotionless stare that Marinette bore. If Alya was good at one thing, it was being righteous, and this particular situation was primed to turn her indignation up to eleven. “They can’t just…fire a grad student. Especially not you. Do they not realize how good you are?” 

“I guess not.” Marinette murmured. She traced her finger around the rim of the mug, and watched surface of the cold tea ripple. “I don’t know, Alya. I haven’t been very happy in this lab. Maybe it’s for the best to just let it go.” 

“It would ruin your career!” Alya choked out. She was trying very hard not to yell. Marinette had heard this tone before many times, most recently when Chloé, administrator extraordinaire, had tried to deny Alya reimbursement on a grant, just because. “He may be an ass, but Agreste is a big name in entymology. That’s why you came here! You know as well as I do that getting booted from his lab would be a huge black mark on your resume.” 

Marinette slumped down in her chair. Alya was right, of course. As Marinette felt herself sink deeper into the black pit that had opened up in her core, Alya made a frustrated noise and smacked herself in the forehead. 

“No, wait, look, Marinette, I’m sorry. I should be helping out you out of this hole, not scaring you further into it. I’m sure there’s a way, we just have to find it. I’m just frustrated, just…can I be mad for you? For a while?” 

“I guess someone has to be mad about it. I guess…I don’t think I’ve processed it yet. I don’t really want to think about it.” Marinette forced the words out. She didn’t want to talk even more than she didn’t want to think, but she also didn’t wan Alya more concerned than she actually was. 

_Don’t want to think about how I could be cut from a program that was once my dream and never be able to do anything ever again._

Her internal monologue didn’t get any further than that. Marinette’s mind liked to extrapolate itself seven ways to Sunday, but today her internal voice was running out of energy before forming even a single run-on sentence. Perhaps it was the lack of room to exaggerate. She had finally found herself in a situation serious enough to actually harm her future. 

Alya was eyeing her gently. She looked as though she understood, but also didn’t want to let it go. Marinette knew that if their situations had been flipped, she would have felt the same way. However, if their situations had been flipped, her eyes would not have sparked in the way that Alya’s just had. 

“Okay, then lets talk about something else.” Alya grinned mischievously. “Have you seen that guy again?” 

_Oh yeah, Alya, like this is so much better. Thanks for getting my mind out of existential dread and into existential DESPAIR._

“What, since I fell out of a tree and found myself unable to form words around him? No, I haven’t, thanks.” Marinette huffed. Alya made a bizarre noise, and Marinette suspected she was suppressing a giggle at the sudden reappearance of emotion. 

“I still hold that that was romantic.” Alya tossed her head of curly red hair and held her hand to her forehead as though swooning. “A knight in shining armor come to rescue a princess from a horrible tree monster.” 

“Ok, that needs to stop.” Marinette said, trying unsuccessfully not to giggle. “It was at least twelve times as embarrassing as that.” 

“Was it more embarrassing than when he came to help you hunt around your kingdom for the treasure of scattered pipette tips?” Alya asked breathily, leaning back in her chair and pulling up her other hand to double the amount of swooning gestures on her forehead. She blinked her eyes closed dreamily, but the expression was betrayed by a smirk. “Such chivalry!” 

“Alya!” Marinette groaned. “This is not helping. And no matter what you say, neither of those occasions was romantic. They were just one hundred percent embarrassing. I swear, every time that guy shows up something goes terribly wrong. He’s like some kind of crazy bad luck charm.” 

“Bad luck charm, huh.” Alya looked thoughtful. 

“Yeah.” Marinette was very frustrated by this fact. “The universe works against me when it comes to this guy. It’s one crazy statistical anomaly.” 

Alya’s eyes gleamed again. 

“What if you talked to him somewhere where the universe couldn’t screw you up too much? Maybe going in with a plan, instead of it being spur of the moment. Like a…controlled environment.” 

\--

“A controlled environment?” Adrien asked. “I don’t think you can control for luck, dude.” 

“Sure you can.” Nino replied easily. “You just have to go in expecting to talk to her. Go in with a strong plan, and there’s no way you can screw it up to as extreme of a degree.” 

\--

“I dunno Alya,” Marinette sighed. “Everything I do seems to turn out a little bit extreme, whether I plan it to or not. Even when I plan for it to be specifically not.” 

“Yeah, but this is a situation that definitely can’t get, like, falling out of a tree extreme.” Alya responded encouragingly. 

\--

“What did you have in mind?” Adrien asked. He mulled possible planned speaking opportunities through his head, but nothing seemed obvious. 

\--

_I guess I could just knock on the door of his lab and ask him out for coffee. And then we could have a wonderful conversation about vertebrate and invertebrate behavioral patterns, and then he would ask me to be his girlfriend, and then we would move into an apartment downtown and get three dogs._

_Maybe that’s a little extreme for a planned speaking opportunity._

\--

“The department social, dude.” Nino grinned. “It’s at the end of next week…”

\--

“…which gives you plenty of time to prepare.” Alya said knowingly. Marinette rolled her eyes. 

_Though to be fair, I will probably take every minute of the next two weeks to prepare for this._

“Aren’t those things usually super boring?” Marinette suggested. She wasn’t necessarily trying to get out of this, but it would be one less thing to worry about…

\--

“Yeah, but that’s why it’s good. It’s controlled.” Nino said. He was smiling, and Adrien found himself grinning in response. This was sounding better and better “You go in, you make small talk, give a little blurb about why leopards or whatever are the best—“

\--

“Because ladybugs or whatever are the best!” Marinette interrupted. She could feel the spark of nervous energy that usually fueled her enthusiasm surging back out of the emotional hole the day had left in her stomach. 

\--

“Yeah, yeah, if you ignore the existence of turtles.” Nino grumbled. He couldn’t really be annoyed. Adrien was laughing, which was a nice change of pace. “You make your small talk, you give your blurb…”

\--

“…you have the same planned introduction for everyone, you can’t screw it up, everything is okie-dokie!” Alya was grinning broadly, and gesturing generously. She seemed extremely pleased with herself. Marinette was pretty sure this plan had been made on the fly, but she had to hand it to the girl. It was not a bad idea. 

A bright spot in the future to distract her from the crushing now of needing to find money, to impress, to suddenly become even more passionate and devoted to her research than she already had been. 

_A bright spot of sunshine hair and impossible emerald eyes._

\--

_A bright spot of night-black hair and impossible sapphire eyes._

Adrien felt as though his heart was glowing, as though someone had put a flame inside his chest. All the shame of his pun-tastic incident from earlier in the day had fled. He still had a significant chance. He could talk to the ladybug girl, and it wouldn’t be weird. 

“Okay! I’ll do it!” He pumped his fist in the air, and Nino laughed. 

\--

“Okay! I’ll do it!” Marinette finally decided, and Alya’s laughter was like a balm on the hurt of a harrowing day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this chapter took forever to finish! Between graduating, moving, getting an actual job, and being distracted by Voltron and Avengers stuff I have not written much. But here is the next bit! It actually has plot (kind of)! And don't worry, (spoilers) Marinette will be okay. I can't write sad endings, or romantic angst. I'm too much of a softie. 
> 
> Nino's research topic is the morphology and physiology of sea turtle hearing, which is actually apparently not a topic that much is known about. Here is the paper that I based it off of: http://link.springer.com/chapter/10.1007/978-1-4419-7311-5_18#page-1
> 
> I'm excited for the next chapter because I'm going to use it to introduce some minor characters and research topics that have been running around in the back of my head! 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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